Vive Loco Amante
by FallenFromParadise
Summary: When an escaped Eduardo suddenly throws a bound and gagged Margo into his rooms, Antonio has no choice but to accept watchdog duty and take charge of her captivity. She is angry, sharp, verbally abusive, and so uniquely wonderful when her barriers are down that distracting her from her glacial demeanor is more of an addiction than a hobby. Live Crazy, Love. Margo/Toni ENGLISH
1. Chapter 1

Vive Loco Amante

Authors Note: Out of the five projects I've got running, this one is by far my favorite plot as it completely forces both Margo and Antonio to face each other. It originally started as a companion to go along with a fiction that is currently undergoing a complete overhaul because this one took a life of it's own and I _really_ wanted them to match up.

Summery: When an escaped El Macho suddenly throws a bound and gagged Margo into his rooms, Antonio has no choice but to accept watchdog duty and take charge of her captivity. She is angry, sharp, verbally abusive, and so uniquely wonderful when her barriers were down that distracting her from her glacial demeanor is almost addictive.

All Standard Disclaimers Apply.

* * *

Antonio Prres carefully looked through his large wardrobe the solid racks holding strong against the weight of his numerous shirts thanks in major part to the support pieces that kept it from falling. It was difficult to choose what he should wear that day as his father had promised a special surprise, which could mean anything from an exotic gift to a festive party.

Obviously, a graphic shirt would have to be involved as it was a signature look he'd continued to have even after he graduated high school and accepted the diploma he and everyone else around him knew came more from his father's wallet than his own hard work. Not that there was anything wrong with that, many of his friends had their parents do the same and not one of them seemed to have any difficulty throwing the fact aside to party with him in Monte Carlo.

Now _that_ had been a party.

He dressed quickly, dressing up his simple shirt and jeans with a faded leather jacket, the many brass studs going down the folded lapel pushing him into a pair of black leather boots and matching studded fedora that he sat jauntily at an angle over first his left, and than his right eye. The large angled mirrors positioned to his left showed his outfit fully and he spun around to it with a large grin before winking at himself in approval, not that he'd been worried. Antonio Perez had a style the majority of his friends and acquaintances tried and failed to accomplish for themselves mainly because he'd ignored his father's wishes and instead had hired only the best physical trainers to hone into his 'perfect body'.

He was nothing the prime specimen of what any young man his age would want to be and he had absolutely no issues with flaunting the fact at any given moment. The many times some ignorant photography agent had attempted to pull him aside and offered him their cards was proof of it, and as tokens for each occasion he'd accepted each card to the point that he'd had to clear out the entire top of his dresser drawers just to keep them. He would eventually have to stop if he didn't want to empty out a second drawer and the thought had him smirking proudly to himself as he turned and left the room.

The bedroom was smaller than he wanted, but he couldn't help but enjoy looking at the high tech gadgets within that controlled everything from the warmth of the floor to the LCD screen that made up his ceiling. At the moment the screen was a swirl of bright neon that vibrated with each pulse of the tall speakers attached to it from behind the wall that played his morning play list from his mp3 player as clearly as if the band had turned invisible and set themselves up inside his room.

Not pausing to appreciate his luxury, he stopped by the speakers only long enough to free his music player before leaving the bedroom and stepping into his personal haven. The thirty by fifty foot room had been split into two areas by use of hardwood and plush red and gold striped carpeting. One area, dedicated to his life's motto 'Live like you're dying', was dedicated to his passion for music and dance, a large bar sitting off to one side providing just enough room for the dance floor and six small tables that separated it from a small stage on the other.

On the other side of the room, a great deal smaller than his bar area, was where he finally stopped before falling comfortably onto the overstuffed red sofa sitting before a wide fireplace, smoothly reclining across the velvet cushions before slipping his music player into a small hidden dock within the arm. It took only a few seconds before his song began where he'd stopped it in his room before spilling out through the long sleek speakers that had been strategically placed for optimal sound flow.

Then again, everything was strategically placed by the interior designers and professional installers that had feuded for days before the final outcome had been realized after they'd finally given up and knocked a wall out to provide the room needed for everything. It cut into his game room, but the end result had been worth it.

The only real complaint that he had about his wonderful lounge was that his stage was a trifle too small, not that anything could really be done without expanding it over the dance floor. It had been a difficult decision to make, however a gracious host could not dishonor himself by crushing his visitors into a space so small it was more awkward than enticing. To make up for the lack of presentation, he'd installed several colorful lights overhead and no less than four fog machines under the wood designed to escape from between the ivy inspired carvings so that it could billow out across the floor.

The collaborated effort of he and the design staff had managed to provide comfort, style, sophistication, and the cleaver ingenuity to turn the room from utterly boring to deliciously beguiling and had lured many women into his bed… Though, admittedly, it also made it more difficult to get them out once he was done with them and he continuously found himself bribing the house staff to get them out for him.

Truly, he had everything in life that he could ever want; so whatever his father was bringing would have to be extraordinary if he hoped to compete with what Antonio already had... Hopefully it was a deed to his own privet island; he'd wanted one ever since his friend Anthony had bragged over his own nearly six weeks before during a private beach party thrown by an associate of their fathers.

* * *

Four hours later and Antonio wasn't entirely sure what to do with the girl his father had easily pulled in spite of her struggle against the thick rope binding tied to her wrists. The older man's smile implied that the girl was important somehow, but try as Antonio did to recall why her furious brown eyes seemed so familiar, he could only shrug in defeat. "If you believe I have such troubles getting a woman's company in the evening that you have to bring one to me hand selected then I must admit to being somewhat disappointed in your faith in my skills."

The joke earned a rich laugh from the masked man and Antonio joined in without hesitation. His skills with the opposite sex easily overpowered even the legendary El Macho's, and such a thing was not easily accomplished by someone as young as himself. In fact, he sometimes liked to tease his father about it during the few times they sat together for meals which had inspired a small contest that he had won and earned himself a sparkling blue Harley Davison.

Eduardo wiped away a tear of mirth before tugging on the girl's ropes to drag her further into the room, "No, my son, I should not think such a thing even if your hair suddenly falls out and your gut falls below your waist." Antonio's flinch of horror caused another round of laughter to fill the room before he continued with a large wink of victory that did not go unnoticed by the younger man, "May I present to you an old flame from your past; Senorita Margo Gru."

Recollection had him snapping his eyes back at the girl whom he could only remember as the lanky awkward thing that had managed to capture his attention four years before just before his fifteenth Cinco da Mayo. "Is it really?" trying to see her better, he stepped closer to the snarling woman and tried to picture what she would look like under the large metallic muzzle-like mask that was no doubt designed to keep her from creating too much noise.

After a moment without success he finally chuckled again and shook his head, "I don't want this girl, father, I have plans this evening with a delightful little blonde I met outside of a bookshop down town." Not that he had joined her going into the building itself as the majority of everything inside was as boring as the girl would no doubt prove to be herself until he brought her home after taking her dancing. "Return her to wherever it is that you found her-"

"Since when would I bring Senorita Gru here for such a thing?" the blunt insult he heard in his father's voice cut him off where his words couldn't and he had to stop himself from fidgeting like a school boy. Honestly, as he rethought what he'd said he realized how he'd sounded and felt a little disgusted with himself for having even had the ability to think that way himself. "We need her in order to draw out her parents, but that does not mean that she is to be treated with any less respect than necessary."

"The men have already failed me twice in keeping her guarded and I can not afford her to escape and alert Gru or the AVL my intentions." In spite of his words, he grinned down at the angry girl before patting her head as if she were his favorite cat, "She is very cleaver and you have not done anything like this before, so you will need to keep a close eye on her until you know what to expect."

When the thick rope was pressed into his hands he took hold without question before blinking down at it with the slow realization what his father was trying to imply and jerking back to stare at him stupidly. There was no way he could even stretch his imagination far enough to picture himself watching over one of his father's _hostages_! "You certainly can not be serious, why is she actually he-_re_." his voice jerked at the end of his question when she suddenly tried to break free of his hold and discovered he was stronger than he looked.

The absolute shock in her eyes was the closest thing to an insult he'd ever had outside of her insane father's decision to freeze him solidly in ice. The reminder had him tightening his grip and narrowing his own brown eyes into her softer ones, "Be still while I am speaking to my father."

The silent barrage of insults that she managed to transmit with the simple sneer of her eyes was both amazing and somewhat intimidating. It was almost as if she could send her thoughts into his head with only the meeting of their eyes and the longer he held the connection the more uncomfortable it made him feel. He half wanted to apologize for aggravating her and half wanted to just run for his bedroom and lock the door until his father took her away.

A powerful slap between his shoulder blades forced both his eyes and breath away and by the time he managed to suck in a painful gasp of air he realized that his father had been speaking. Not only was he speaking, but he was turning away as if he really did intend to leave him with the girl and, unfortunately for her, he had also managed to forget his hold of her rope and only remembered by the sharp jerk that came an instant before the sound of a body being slammed harshly against a solid wood floor brought him to an abrupt halt.

Antonio had already spun around to gape at the girl while she struggled to get back up without the use of her arms and only the partial use the ankle cuffs provided her legs. It was the first time he'd ever physically caused harm to a woman and, try as he did, the knowledge that it had been an accident didn't ease the guilt whatsoever. It wasn't until an abrupt slap against the back of his head that he was able to do much else other than stare at the struggling girl.

"I said that you are to make sure that she doesn't escape, but that does not mean that you may treat her with any less respect that you would give to any other lady!" Eduardo snapped, stepping around him to help the girl to her feet before cupping his hands over her muzzle to inspect what he could of her face.

"It was an accident! As if I would intentionally harm-´ before he could finish he choked off to stared at the older man with a combination of disbelief and horror, "You mean, you are serious?" Watching as Eduardo finally decided that the girl was well enough for him to leave, he gave her another fond pat that she tried to move out of the way of and was almost out of the door before he had a chance to form an argument.

"Do not be so worried, it is but a small task in a much grander plan for now; but should you do this well you will advance quickly to carry on in my footsteps after I have retired." His unintentional abuse of the woman escaped his father's mind to allow what Antonio knew was of himself donning El Macho's mask had the younger man staring at him flatly. "Don't look so upset, you will want this for yourself soon enough; I promise you that. I have every confidence in this!"

One argument after another vied for his use, each one better than the last, but before he could grasp even one to use he found himself standing alone in his lounge… Or, rather, not alone; but not with any company he wanted to keep and, this time, there was no maid to escort her from the property. In fact, she was _his_ responsibility and the thought immediately made him want to lock her in a bathroom and forget she even existed; which he might have done if not for the smearing of blood that managed to leak from under the mask.

Not knowing what else to do, he dropped the rope his father had given him and wiped the feeling of it from his palms down the front of his jeans, "I'm going to assume you dislike being lead around on a leash, right?"

No trace of laughter gleamed in the silently accusing eyes, not that he expected any in the first place, but it didn't stop him from grinning himself before reaching for her arm to lead her towards a tall bar chair. The muzzle itself stumped him and he had to step back to stare at the six straps that seemingly offered no way of freeing the wearer, but without removing it there was no way for him to actually look for the injury.

After a few seconds of trying to pull the straps apart without success, he gave up and instead walked around her so that she could see him, "I'm going to remove your mask. Wait here while I find a knife." He had no idea why he told her any of it as there was no way she could respond with the mask in place and no where for her to go in the time it would take him to hunt down a knife.

Not bothering to worry about something so trivial, he quickly found a pairing knife usually used to carve off pieces of fruit skin to use as garnishments in drinks before returning behind her. It was sharp, and he was confident that it would at least break into the cloth-like straps enough to allow him to tear through what wouldn't cut, but he was just as confident that a single wrong move would cut through her scalp as well. A chance made better as she didn't seem to trust him out of her sight, "Be still! I do not wish to injure you if I can avid it!"

Instead of calming her, his words only made her struggle more and her voice grew in volume until a slight muffled sound managed to break out even from the expensive mask designed to keep it in. Whatever she was screaming, which was no doubt about him hold a knife so closely to her head, came hand in hand with her fighting to jerk herself away from him until he finally gave up and threw his hands into the air. "Then what is it you want? To stay like this your entire stay here?" Wouldn't that just make his company feel comfortable when they came by?

As if she was waiting for the knife to turn away from her, she pushed her legs out and forced her stool to spin her towards him before jerking her chin down several times, her eyes looking down as far as they could go. "I cannot understand whatever it is you are trying to tell me." He slammed the tiny knife onto the bar and crossed his arms to glower at her when something around her neck caught the light and gleamed briefly. His eyes quickly looked for the source and, for the first time that he could remember, he actually felt every bit the fool, "You are wearing a key around your neck?"

Her shoulders sagged, her head bobbing up and down in answer before stilling to allow him to cautiously remove the string holding the key in place. Turning her back around, he inspected the straps closely until a small hole caught his notice from the side of the main strap. A hole that the small key fit perfectly within and, when turned, unlatched the straps holding it in place until it finally fell and he heard her take in a large swallow of air.

"Gru is the best consolatory member that the AVL has to offer and Lucy is the top field agent in the _world_. I don't know what you and your idiot daddy have planned, but it's not going to take my parents more than three days to get here and take _all_ of you into custody!"

Not knowing what AVL was supposed to mean, he instead focused on the memory of the interfering man resurfacing enough so that he had to wiggle his toes to remind himself that they'd all managed to be saved before frost bite had claimed them. If Gru had froze him for abandoning his daughter on their date then who knew _what_ the fat man would do for holding her hostage within his personal rooms styled to fit his every passion.

However, he did know what _his_ father would do if he freed her, and it quickly morphed the somewhat frightened expression on his face into one that he could confidently say was, at the very least, bland indifference. "The chances of your father discovering our location is not as good as you seem to believe. My father has remained under the radar here for nearly three entire years after escaping from wherever it was that your family had him locked away to. I doubt anyone even has the faintest inkling which country we're even in."

Not that they had ever left America to begin with. In fact, not that he would tell her so, they were just a mile short of Canada with so many tunnels that they could smuggle themselves across the boarder that even Antonio didn't know the exact number. "I suggest that you relax and try not to worry about it, if you behave yourself you might even enjoy your stay here-"

"You can't be serious." She struggled against the ropes holding her arms in place before spinning herself around again and glaring at him, "Are you just going to leave me tied up like this? My arms fell asleep hours ago and if I don't move them soon they might become permanently damaged! You're smart enough to know that, right?"

The insult stung and he glared at her, opening his mouth to snap one at her in return only to have her sudden giggle and the roll of her eyes beat him to the punch, "Oh, right, I almost forgot who you were." Shaking her head in mocking amusement, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Just untie me so my arms don't fall off; okay, tall, dark, and pretty?"

Another first in his life that he new had never happened before… The girl had actually managed to turn a compliment into an insult before hurling it at him in such a sarcastically nasty way that he found himself furious, but had already picked the knife back up to do as she wanted before he knew he'd moved. When she nodded her approval and stood up once he'd finished he slammed the knife back down and watched as she reached for one of the small straw stirrers he kept on the bar before bending to force it into the cuffs around her ankles.

She'd already picked both before he could tell her that a straw alone wouldn't be enough to get herself free of his father's stolen technology. When she finished, she tossed the straw aside and straightened to sharp beige blazer she wore, forcing the majority of wrinkles in the suede fabric out I a single tug that caused the simple teal skirt that flowed around her knees to sway from the motion. "Now, allow me to inform you on how this will actually pan out before you get any idiotic notion that your father's '_plan'_," she stressed the word, hands coming up to her shoulder level to pantomime quotation marks before they came back down to her waist, "will result in anything other than failure."

"My father-"

"As I previously mentioned, my parents are the best that the AVL has to offer and because of that the AVL allows them certain privileges. Those privileges include access to all satellite transmissions." Seemingly losing interesting in watching his face while she spoke, her eyes scornfully cast about his lounge with distain, "Second, they will override all active cameras around the scene of my abduction and follow the direction your father took me in using first the security cameras of nearby stores before switching to the highway cameras. There is no chance of you overriding their efforts unless your father already deactivated the cameras _before_ I was taken; and since I was quick to press the panic button Gru gave me the hour after your father broke out of captivity, my guess is that they'll be here soon."

The sureness of her voice made him nervous his eyes darting towards the corridor door before coming back to see her take measured steps onto his dance floor. "Third, using the satellite transmissions they will receive in…" she paused and gave a quick glance at the black banded wristwatch she wore as her only accessory, she gave a derisive little laugh, "Three hours ago, give or take ten minutes."

The glossy nude colored pumps adorning her feet clicked and he couldn't help but watch them as she made her way onto the stage, the muscles in her calves flexing each step that mounted the stairs, "What in the world have you got going on here?" Pausing at the fifties inspired microphone, she reached out a delicately clear polished manicured nail and tapped against it with a scoff. "You couldn't honestly be such a child that this would have much use beyond a get together or two…" she trailed off again, her serious brown eyes landing on him before another laugh trickled out, "Right, of course. Sorry."

As she stepped of the stage he had the bizarre urge to hide the rest of the room away from her prying eyes before she could see anything else, "I do not recall you being so serious when we first met at the mall." Allowing the implication in his voice to say the rest for him, he curled his lips into a taunting smirk that would no doubt drive her mad.

"I don't recall _you_ having met me anywhere, Antonio, so you wouldn't know how 'serious' I am." The blandness in her voice easily swatted away the inference of his own before she paused to study the pluch sitting area and tapped her chin. "Well, I suppose that if everything else in here must look like the idiots guide to decorating a bordello I shouldn't be too surprised to see such a _vivid _color of red and velvet furniture." Yet another barb against his intelligence made, she finally turned back to him, her hand resting lightly on the polished wooden trim of his sofa with a sarcastic smile he immediately wanted rid off. "Back to the previous subject, after my parents have already stolen into your home without your notice they will first arrest you and free me before recapturing your father. By this time tomorrow I will be safely back in my bedroom and you will be trying to decide how to best redecorate your cell while several large men try to decide on how best to redecorate your posterior."

The lack of subtlety in reference to him getting _raped_ finally goaded Antonio into stiffening his back and glaring at her from across the large room. Before he'd even removed the technological gag that his father had secured around her head, probably to stop her from doing the same as she'd done to him, she had done nothing but belittle him with every other breath that she took. Even now her eyes were picking up where her words had left off, her perfectly sculpted brows arching in obvious wait for whatever comeback he thought up so she could fire off the three she'd already decided to use from the doubtlessly endless array she had in her mental arsenal.

"I'm so glad that you feel confident enough to tell me all of this, Senorita Gru." forcing himself to casually lift his cell phone so that he could scroll through until he reached his father's contact number, he glanced up to her still waiting face and grinned pleasantly, "I will make sure to inform my father of their commendable efforts to retrieve their rare arctic banshee."

Instead of striking a nerve as his comment would have normally done to any other woman that had ever attempted to cross him, it seemed to please her instead. Her tight lips curling into a satisfied feline grin that, for reasons he couldn't grasp, sickened him enough to quickly turn around so that he wouldn't have to see it. After only the first ring, his father picked up and jovially laughed off what Margo Gru had said, _"We have already thought of this, nino, you have no reason to worry."_

* * *

Authors Note: I hope everyone enjoyed Vive Loco Amante (Live Crazy Love) because I sure as heck worked my butt off on it! I hope I haven't set anyone off at the amount of detail I gave Antonio's clothes and rooms because I was trying to get across that he's an incredibly vapid and immature man.

Anyhow, if you like what you've read than please leave me a review telling me so that I can use as encouragement while writing the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

Vive Loca Amante

Authors Note: You guys are really encouraging me to keep it going, aren't you? Ah well, I'll just hope that you're all just too busy to leave a review for now. –Shrugs- Anyhow, I decided to go ahead and put up chapter two since I've already edited it so that you can see Antonio and Margo interacting with each other. Read on and enjoy!

All disclaimers apply.

* * *

Living with Margo Gru, as Antonio Perez had quickly discovered, was an ordeal that involved careful planning and constant attention. Even with the guards posted outside every exit of his rooms, she'd already managed to slip by him twice; and the tracking bracelet she now wore around her wrist caused him a constant source of aggravation because _he_ had to wear a corresponding one that let out a shrill ring that very shook even the highest of his windows if she went farther than ten feet from him. And, if that wasn't enough, he had to _tie_ her to the cot brought in at night if he didn't want to wake up with her trying to do the same to him.

Even now, as he sluggishly flopped onto one of the plush chairs of his lounge because the girl had taken over his couch, his mind was racing in a wild attempt to guess what she was planning next. Escape? Probably not, the high-pitch alert system they each wore around their wrists had brought her to her knees as well until he'd been able to crawl close enough for it to stop. Perhaps she would decided to take the nail file she used and give prying the thing off her wrist a try; though he hoped not since his father had promised them both that the resulting shock might kill them.

He hoped it was a bluff, but he wasn't stupid enough to let her try it out when he had absolutely no idea which of his father's inventors had created them. There was one woman in particular that seemed hell bent on racking up the good-girl points with El Macho and sometimes went a little overboard in her effort. Or maybe it was Renaldo; the uncle he'd only recently discovered he hadn't known he'd had until the past year. The man himself wasn't so bad; but like Eduardo, his powerful muscles and extreme resilience sometimes made him overestimate what the normal human body could handle

Giving up on his pointless thoughts to move his stare from the girl to the burning gas fire she'd already turned on, he dragged his feet up, propped them onto the large oblong coffee table and sighed. "Whatever abuse you are planning to attempt today is useless and the chances of you killing us both are dangerously high, which makes me very uncomfortable." though he wouldn't tell her not to try as she seemed to have the unique ability to turn his words into encouragement for the opposite of what he wanted.

"How long did it take you to realize this?" she paused her filing to sneer at him out of the corner of her eyes before restarting once more. "And do you think you could walk any slower? I was tempted to run ahead just to end the torture."

"I'm walking slow because you kicked me in the knee cap last night when I was locking you in my dressing room so you couldn't _kill_ me in my _sleep_!" the furious snap accompanied a small burst of energy that allowed him to sit up and give her a heated glare. "And that long droning moan you woke me up to this morning had me thinking my room was suddenly haunted until I seen you staring at the wall. Could you _be_ any creepier?!"

For the first time since she arrived she faced him fully, her eyes narrowing dangerously and hinting at a possible attack as she pushed herself forcefully from the couch and towered over him. "I had to _pee_!" her eyes flashed and he swallowed, pushing himself as far into his chair as he could go as he watched her nostrils flair with angry accelerated breathing. "And this is all _after_ keeping me up until one in the morning with your stupid party while your idiot friends crowded around me and treated me like a favored _pet _before throwing me in a 'dressing room' so you could hook up with some random woman with a nose ring!"

This was probably because he'd patted her head and introduced her as his new pet, a joke that his friends had appreciated and had earned him a vicious bite that had come close to breaking the skin of his wrist when she'd gotten hold of it. "We kept it down, and maybe you should have reconsidered growling at them when they got too close to your territory." the words left his tongue before he could stop them, sounding every bit as sardonic as they were intended to be. Honestly, after witnessing the mass majority of his friends attempt to offer her 'puppy treats' in the form of pretzels and chips, he had been more than just slightly upset. Unknown to her, it was _why_ his party had ended early compared to the late mornings when the maids had to chase the unruly bunch of party-goers out so he could finally get some rest.

When her hand jerked back he automatically flinched and clenched his eyes, waiting for the no doubt stinging slap that she would give for his careless words. He deserved it, and if it managed to stop her from throwing him into the burning fire and watching him roast like a stuck pig then he would let it happen and be done with it. As much as she frustrated him, as much as she pushed him, as coolly as she treated him; she was still a lady and his words and inaction to defend her when she needed it was nothing short of deplorable. Not to mention that locking her in the _dressing room_? Even he could admit that might have gone too far for anyone considering both his and the girl's drunken tumble in his sheets.

For several breathless seconds he waited for a pain that didn't come before he slowly opened his eyes to see her still form continuing to hover over his own with her hand frozen in the air. It wasn't until he shifted, unsure of what to do in his new found situation that she abruptly turned and gracefully walked to the far end of the sofa. When she sat he felt himself release a heavy breath, hearing the sound in his own ears as the relieved sigh of a spineless coward that his father had _not_ raised and self-disgust quickly overpowered the weaker emotion. "You should have hit me."

"I've gone nearly eighteen years without hitting anyone." she kicked her pumps off, allowing them to fall under the table without bothering to care if they scuffed or not from the treatment, "I'm not going to break that record because of a boy like you."

There was no argument he could make against her statement, so instead he allowed the crackling of the fire to drown out the empty silence between them. There was a sort of admirable tenacity inside of her, her determination of her self-worth firmly etched in place with an unyielding strength against even her own temper, let alone some thoughtless boy such as himself... Eighteen years without hitting a single person, and if he recalled correctly she had at least one sister that he had witnessed could be more than slightly physical.

And her father... The man was muy loco, far more than even his own by several degrees even if he took his old man's addiction to salsa into account. "If that is true, then it is an impressive feat." he murmured unintentionally, but didn't bother to take it back in favor of slyly stealing a glance from the corner of his eye. Her lips had thinned again and it didn't take him a second to know why, "Of course, I do not believe that slapping me would have tainted your achievement as I know I deserved it."

The speed in which her head snapped around to stare at him in open shock nearly hurt his own neck before he realized it was the first expression she'd given him that came without even the slightest aggression. Wide brown eyes blinked owlishly from behind rimless glasses that he could tell even from the near six feet that separated them only just failed to brush against the spotless lenses while her dusky pink lips dropped open to gape in a silent testament to just how monstrous she thought he was. "I am capable of understanding when I have done wrong by a woman, Margo."

Whether it was the use of her name or that his blatant admittance of mistreatment he couldn't tell, but as soon as he'd finished his sentence she was bristling all over again, "Well, since you can understand that then your lack of ability to treat them _right_ should be completely overlooked." Leaning herself against the tall arm of the couch, her back straight and her shoulders squared in spite of her otherwise comfortable position, she returned her eyes to the fire.

Not sure why he wanted to bring her attention back to him since it was painfully obvious that she'd rather talk to the wall, he smoothly slipped from the chair and onto the other side of the couch. Somehow, she managed to tighten further, but she kept whatever words she wanted to clearly scream at him to herself and he was man enough to admit that he was thankful for it as he would no doubt be otherwise chased off. "Perhaps I should offer you an apology."

"Perhaps you should drive with me to the closest town and let me call my parents." she retorted evenly without even a pause to show she needed to consider her words.

Ignoring them and instead leaning back to take in her appearance, which somehow remained unchanged down to the wrinkles in her skirt; he snapped his fingers and grinned. "How about new clothes, eh? Some new things to wear always makes the ladies feel better." before he could stop himself he'd already leaned in to reach out and made the mistake of actually touching her.

The reaction was so quick that he had to hurriedly go into an awkward bend over the couch to prevent their bracelets from activating when she managed to nimbly back flip from her seated position and rush across the floor in her haste to put their distance back between them. "Calm yourself, I can't stand to hear that sound again!" forcing himself to roll into a less agile jump before she managed to bring them both to their knees yet again, he managed to catch her by the ankle and held tight. "Please, Margo! Be still!"

"Let go of me, scum!" her screech managed to compete with their bracelets, losing only by an octave or two; a fact that had him continuing to cling before she managed to test his belief. "Don't touch me, Antonio!"

_'Don't touch me, Antonio!'_

His hand immediately loosened, allowing her ankle to slip through as his mind flashed back three years to her younger tear stained cheeks at a Cinco de Mayo party where she had been invited as his date. Even the noise their bracelets gave signaling she'd gone beyond the invisible tether didn't distract from the memory and he watched his younger self smile confidently, _'Come, bella, there is no reason for you to be upset. Dance with another boy while I attend the sweet Beatrice.'_

His stomach lurched as the combination of sound and past collided finally, leaving him to shake what he could from his head before he forced himself to his feet and stumbled the few inches it took to silence the alarms. Margo had collapsed near his bar, her wrist tightly clasped between her thighs in an attempt to dampen the wail, and even the time it took him to reach her wasn't enough for her to return to her feet. Not that he couldn't understand why, after all it was only by sheer force of will to get to her that he even managed to keep his eyes focused and his feet moving; and how he succeeded in speaking was beyond him. "Let me help you up."

He didn't ask because he knew that if given an option she would refuse. Instead, he ignored her weak struggle against him and lightly grasped her waist to pull her slight weight into his arms before setting her onto the nearest stool. Once finished, he allowed himself to fall onto the one beside her and took a moment to gather his bearings enough to study the over strung face of the woman at his side, "Listen, you and I will have to find some common ground if there is to be any peace between us while you are here." She stubbornly refused to look at him, a fact that exhausted him more than irritated and caused him to pinch the bridge of his nose in silent frustration.

It had been days since he'd been able to actually relax even in the slightest trying to figure out how to handle a woman that, even more than disliked, _loathed_ being around him entirely. At no point in time had she managed to give him even remotely a civil word and had yet to go past an hour without caustically sniping something at him. "We have no idea how long my father intends to hold you captive and I can not live under your ceaseless judgmental attacks."

"Pardon?" her eyes were on him again, narrowed into dangerous twin slits, "Are you saying that I should be a reasonable little hostage so that you don't have to work so hard while you're hosting parties for your incompetent friends?" Punctuating her question with a fierce slap against the bar, she pushed herself around until their knees touched and she could sneer at him directly, "You are a disgusting man living a pathetic life who couldn't possibly have any other thought in your lazy head aside from which hat goes with your _belt_."

"I have never before witnessed even my youngest sister, who is _obsessed_ with looking as cute as humanly possible; spend so much time picking out an outfit! Are you sure you're even male, because I have yet to see you display any manliness aside from finding the easiest slut to do in a room filled with them!" she strode away from him, her bare feet pacing close by while she vented. "Meanwhile I'm stuffed in what I can only describe as a _shrine_ of yourself disguised as your _dressing room_?" pausing to give him a look of such profound incredulity that he actually felt embarrassment for owning one. "Agnes doesn't even have a dressing room... _Agnes_, who had the minions set up a fashion show and pirate the USD channel to broadcast so she and her friends could show off their up-cycling!"

Before he could respond, not that he could think of anything to defend himself with, she carried on with her relentless back and forth march, her long hair swaying with each angry stomp as proof that she was putting her all into it. "Then, after your _maid_," she laughed scornfully and shot him another seething leer, "which you need because little Prince Perez couldn't _possibly_ do any cleaning himself, unlocks the door and lets me know that she'd managed to chase the tramp away I can finally come out. Which was fantastic because I was fairly close to _wetting_ myself, only to discover your drunken hide had chosen to pass out in your window seat!"

"You should have woken me-"

"Screw you! Screw your father! Screw this insanity you call a life! Get the hell up when it's ten in the morning!" she stormed back to him, her now chipped nail jabbing painfully into his chest even through the fabric of his shirt. "I am your _prisoner_, not your wet nurse, why in the name of _hell_ should I have to wake you up when you should be awake _before_ me?" she jabbed him again before she spun away and he quickly rubbed the sore spot on his chest, wondering if she'd managed to pierce his skin without damaging his shirt.

Just as his mind understood how materialistic his thought was, she crossed as far as she dared to go and flopped onto the hard wooden dance floor. The action must have hurt at least some, but if it did it was impossible to tell through the back of her head and he didn't want to know what her reaction would be if he asked after her welfare after blatantly ignoring any of her comforts for the past few days. Instead, he sat quietly and tried to keep from thinking about any number of things she accused him of by picking up straws and tying them into knots.

After several moments, he finally gave up and looked at her again. Not even a hair was moved to show that she'd done anything else but sit like a frozen statue of herself, and before he even knew he was saying anything it just came out, "I couldn't sleep in my bed because she threw up on it." in fact, he had only _just_ been able to remove himself before the skinny blonde had vomited the majority of her liquid feast all over his pillows.

When Margo slowly twisted around to stare blankly at him, he continued to speak as if sharing the information was a direct result of the perplexed stare she gave, "There was so much that it might have even leaked through my box springs, I am not sure how she managed to sleep in the mess herself instead of leaving."

Margo's eyes moved from his to the bedroom door before returning, "Did..." she paused, her lip slipping between her teeth where the pearly whites lightly chewed before he realized what she wanted to ask and arched an eyebrow. If she wanted to know, she would have to finish asking her question; not that he would answer it if only for the obvious reason.

"Was it..." a hand moved, her fingers twirling through the air in the universal gesture of 'you know' that people used when they didn't want to ask but still wanted to know.

"Wet?"

"Well of course it was wet!" she huffed, crossing her arms in irritation and going back to staring at the stage with her left knee jiggling impatiently. "I don't see how it could be anything else, everyone was drinking so much that I'm pretty sure all liquor store owners within a hundred miles are bathing in gold coins. How can you stand to spend so much on alcohol? It's a horrendous waste of money."

Instead of answering a question he knew perfectly well she was only asking to see if he knew, which he could willingly admit that he didn't if anyone _else_ asked the same, he picked up another straw and busied his hands again. From her body language he could see her curiosity and impatience battling against her righteous indignation and determination; it was only a matter of time before curiosity won out as it did against all things. Perhaps he was not as smart as her, and maybe she was more mature, but there was one skill he had more than anyone else, and that was reading people.

It was, as his father put it, a classical skill. One that he mainly chose to leave unused the majority of the time in favor of focusing his attention on himself, but at that moment his eyes were on Margo Gru's back. It bent slightly for a second before straightening stiffly only to arch back and he didn't have to see her face to know her eyes would be rolling back as she attempted to use logic to answer her own unfinished question. Once she seemed to realize what she was doing, her back would stiffen only to lean to the left, probably imagining him covered in vomit before leaning to the right and remembering he'd woken up dry and well away from the assortment of sick.

She was stubborn, steadfastly ignoring his presence so she could concentrate on the when, where, and why of his late night derange. In fact, a quick glance at his watch proved that she had so far managed to hold out for nearly ten minutes on her own without so much as one distraction from her goal of figuring it out on her own. Impressive as it was, he could feel his own impatience rising from the growing anticipation of victory in a battle that she probably was fully aware she was participating in. In fact, he was sure of it because when he managed to _accidentally_ kick the small metal catches where his boots laced against the long metal pole that stretched from one end of the bar to the other her back stiffened all over again mid-arch.

Fifteen minutes passed before he even realized that he had somehow managed to distract her from her original fury, his mood lightening at the thought and solidifying his own determination at the same time. Surely, if he could distract the quick witted woman so easily without even trying, he could outlast her desire for the answer. Instead of focusing on how much longer it might take, he went back to making a chain of stirring straws and watching the ends of her straight brown hair shift around her shoulders as she moved.

It was like watching water through a clear glass, the smallest motion moving through seamlessly in a flowing ripple. Smoother than silk, it would fall into place once again without a strand being out of place and insinuated a steady maintenance many people would not care to perform. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had seen her on more than one occasion use her fingers to pat at the smooth tresses as if to assure herself it hadn't flown away the same direction as her father's...

Unfortunately, the thought strayed near enough to his imagination that his mind was already sketching out how Margo would look without hair and he was struggling not to laugh when it finished. Her features could easily make up for the lack of hair, the mere three years from her past and present enough that the roundness of childhood had left to reveal high cheekbones and almond shaped eyes. If it wasn't for the fact that he could picture her walking around with her father's typical murderous presence she still managed to look beautiful. As long as she stayed away from wearing black jackets and scarves she wouldn't resemble the man at all, lucky for her.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I'm imagining what you would look like bald." he snickered again, not bothering to even try and pretend otherwise even when she jerked around again to give him the strangest look he'd ever received and set him into another gale of laughter.

His honesty must have finally pushed her over the edge, sending her from teetering on the micro-thin line of sane and crazy he had somehow overlooked that she was threading. "You're wishing I was _bald_?! Who does that!?"

The small twitch that accompanied her forceful question had him swallowing down the instinctive answer that almost escaped his throat and wondering if he was actually the idiot she believed him to be. "No, of course I would never wish a woman bald." he was pleased to hear the ring of honesty that seemed to sooth her wounded pride, "I was just thinking of... family genetics and it popped into my head."

She heard his pause and misunderstood, but before he could even stand up to get a head start he suddenly wanted while he watched her push herself from the floor. Thankfully, she didn't seem to have completely lost her mind, which he took as a good thing considering some of the feats he'd seen her do since she had been abruptly thrust into his life. "Which I am sure you take after your mother as you do not resemble your father at all." aside from some of her more frightening parts of personality.

"I understand that you're a complete idiot," she breathed out slowly, as if trying to force out any thoughts of causing him physical harm, and he felt his head bobbing in agreement in spite of the fact that she wasn't looking to see. He _felt_ like a complete idiot, that was for sure, and since he continued to find himself acting like one every other minute then it had to be true. "and I know that during the few days that we 'dated' each other you showed no interest in anything that I told you."

Instead of continuing to nod, he tried to shift himself so that he could roll over the counter in case she changed her mind and charged at him. "But you would think that the word _orphan_ would have gotten through that _thick_ fluffy head of yours!" she'd already snapped about, her arm slicing through the air with the practiced speed of a seasoned pitcher and he was thankful her precision wasn't quite as good when a small tube of lipstick exploded against the counter rather than his face. "But, to appease the _only_ person in the world that matters, baldness does not run in my family. We're just very allergic to drowning."

Any space that he had managed to breach between them widened in an instant, a cataclysm of damage wrecking the near companionable few moments they'd managed to share silently together even seven or eight feet apart. The desire to say something that could fix such a monumental mistake took over and his mouth opened several times before finally closing in defeat while she continued her unemotional stare that promised more than words that his inattention would not be forgotten. The echo of his father's repeated advice that he pay better attention to what he was told mocked him, sending an unspoken 'told you so' from whichever part of the compound he was in without his ever knowing.

"I want to take a shower and I want a change of clothes. Sweats and a t-shirt will be fine, I don't need you spending your _hard earned_ wealth on me when I have perfectly good clothing at home." she watched him steadily, her eyes not wavering in the slightest, until he slowly stood up and nodded his head. It took him only moments to step into his bedroom, go through his dresser, and pull out the closest thing he had to what she'd requested... Pajama bottoms and a plain blue t-shirt.

When she headed to the bathroom he made himself comfortable beside the door sitting on the floor rather than the chair beside his dresser, allowing at least two extra feet of space for her to move about in without occasionally setting off the alarm. Twenty minutes later she was out, her wet hair curling around shoulders half bared thanks to his broader build and toes completely covered by pants sized for someone several inches taller than herself. "I'm very sorry I didn't listen."

"Don't worry about it, I shouldn't have expected you to." she looked down at him with a frown and he quickly shot her one in return. "How much longer do you think I'll be here?"

"I have no idea," he shrugged his shoulders, pushing against the wall so he could stand up and tower over her by at least four inches that had somehow slipped past his notice despite their days together, "but the remainder of your stay will be better. I promise you."'

* * *

Authors Note: I'm in the process of editing chapter three, but won't be putting it up until Tuesday. Hopefully you've enjoyed reading chapter two as much as I enjoyed writing it because I honestly had a blast even if it was a bit of a chore, lol.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: Thanks for returning to read Vive Loco Amante, I hope you enjoy chapter three as much as I enjoyed writing it! Many thanks to Speedsurfer123 and SilverWolf1013 for taking the time to put in their reviews, they were greatly appreciated!

All standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

Awakening to the loud alarm he'd set both his cell phone to as well as the never-before-used alarm clock beside his bed, Antonio could honestly say that he finally understood why other people normally wanted to go to sleep before midnight. Even going to bed early in the hope that Margo would wake in a better, more _expressive_, mood didn't seem like enough hours despite of the solid ten that he knew he got. Trying to ignore the warmth of his covers and the softness of the new mattress, he sat up and tried to figure out how to turn the alarm off before it could wake the girl who now slept in a smaller bed on the other side of the nightstand.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised when the clock was taken from his hands by the more slender ones belonging to Margo. "Really?" looking up to see that she sat on her perfectly made bed, a clear sign that she'd been awake and waiting, he groaned and flopped back down, "What time do you wake up?" If his voice sounded groggy and his words sounded edgy then it couldn't be helped, he hadn't had to wake up before ten since he'd learned his nanny was hesitant to upset his father. A fact which he exploited ever since and hadn't stopped until his sixteenth birthday when she'd quit thanks to her car somehow turning up in the state lake.

Not his fault.

"I wake up at six." the slender brunette set the clock back onto the side table and tilted her head before looking back at him, "Should I congratulate you on waking up at eight?"

"Yes."

"Really?" she blinked at him and he mindlessly nodded before pushing himself sluggishly off his bed to unsteadily walk to his dresser. After making it to that, he stared at it for a moment before shaking his head and reaching down to open some of the drawers in search for something_other_ than his pajamas to wear throughout the day. Of course there was nothing, so he idly stood back up and carelessly kicked the drawer back in before yawning and looking over to his closet. "What are you doing?"

"What?" he struggled to understand what she was talking about, first looking at her before moving his eyes back to the closet. "Finding you some clothes?"

"Marina said she'd be back with mine once they were cleaned." she studied him for a second before shaking her head, "Meanwhile, you're making me walk after you and I accidentally broke your pajama bottom ties." she pushed her hip slightly out to show her hand holding the waist of his bottoms in place. He cared less about the broken string than he would if she suddenly wanted to throw them into the lounges fire and watch them burn.

Yet she was staring at him with a reluctantly apologetic expression that he really didn't want to see on her face so he shrugged his shoulders, "I have more." Another few seconds passed before he noticed her awkward shift and sighed, "So you prefer holding them in place rather than allowing me a few moments to find you something more appropriate?"

"Why, do you have a hidden sit of women's clothing somewhere?" the moment it left her mouth she scrunched her nose and shook her head. "No, sorry about that. I promised myself I'd try to be nice to you."

Realization dawned and he tilted his head to stare at her in concentration, "Is that so?" If that was the case then she must have finally come to accept that her father would not be able to retrieve her from the Perez compound.

"Yes, that is so." she mimicked his accent only to stop and roll her eyes as if it had slipped out before she could stop herself... Of which it probably had considering she'd spent several days straight firing one jibe after another at him without holding herself back whatsoever.

Choosing to laugh rather than take offense, he crossed the large room towards his closet and opened the door wide enough to encourage her to follow, "Feel free to speak with that accent more often, it's actually amusing to hear it being copied so well by a gringo." Passing the different types of jeans until he reached his skinny selection, he pushed them aside until he could easily reach the shelves unintentionally hidden behind. "I only keep jeans a size under what I wear, so they will still be too large for you," pausing to pull the last two remaining jeans he hadn't worn in just over a year, he handed them to her and continued, "but there are plenty of belts and I am sure you will have no difficulty finding a matching hat if you should so choose."

"I get a belt and hat, too?" her voice lightly joked and he turned in surprise only to see her set the jeans onto to top of his shoe shelf so she could go through them. A light smile from her profile was all he could see, but the change it immediately made was drastic enough that he had to forcefully push his attention back to his task. He had been well aware that Margo's maturity had lavishly made up for the awkwardness of childhood, a smile was only bound to increase her looks as it would with anyone's. "You don't look this big, are you sure _you_ can fit in them?"

Just because he thought he could get away with it, he pulled down two pairs of jeans and threw the extra over his shoulder towards her before moving on to the shirts. Choosing one of his smaller undershirts, he turned slightly to toss the elastic blue tank to her only to catch her holding up his larger jeans up to her waist. "You will have a better chance at fitting into the smaller pair, Margo." she looked up at the sound of his voice and he lightly threw the shirt into her face with an amused smirk.

Deciding to wear another himself, he removed a black one from it's hanger and pulled a long sleeved purple checkered plaid button up down as well. He was stepping back when the spur of the moment decision had him pulling down another shirt to throw at her as well just for the sake of throwing it at her. It landed perfectly over her head, not necessarily his greatest feat since he'd been playing basketball ever since he could remember, but still enough so that he grinned victoriously at her surprised squeak.

Before she could retaliate, he quickly picked out a belt that she actually had a chance at fitting around her waist if only because it was designed so that the belt loops went from one end to the other before slipping around her and closing the door to change. When he finished he had to wait, but it was worth it to see the spunky brunette step out of the closet looking like she was trying to smuggle herself into a boys dormitory. Especially since she'd decided to wear the pullover he'd thrown at her as well, rolling the long sleeves up until they only partially covered her hands.

She gave him a dubious stare before looking down at herself and shaking her head, "How do you look so thin when you're _not_?"

* * *

When Antonio had first invited Margo into his gaming room she had rejected it flatly and had mulishly refused to get off the sofa to even look at it. He hadn't argued, the knowledge that she would criticize everything within tempering him from insisting she go and allowing himself to spend day after day after day after _day_ sitting bored and listening to music. In fact, that was exactly what he intended to do that morning and was more than a bit surprised when she hesitatingly hinted that she wouldn't mind at least _seeing_ the contents.

Then, to his utter amazement, he discovered she was good at them. While not quite on he same level as himself, not that very many could be considering his experience, she was decent enough to provide friendly competition. Even better was that she actually seemed to be better on the larger arcade machines than the actual consoles, which he was sure he could improve her on given a little practice. "Hit red twice, then red, black, black, red, black while turning the joystick left."

"I _did_ that." she frowned insistently, eyebrows pinching together in an intent concentration on the screen before them that almost made him laugh. "I think you're giving me wrong instructions on purpose, I'm trying right." before he could stop her she was already doing it, so when the special move he'd been using on her for the past half hour sprang to life on her character he slid a look over to her. She was already staring at him, "You are _such_ a jerk." the mild insult fizzled against laughing eyes before dying quietly.

He shrugged innocently, "Your left is not your right?" lifting his hands from his own joystick and buttons, he looked at them and tilted his head. "All my life, I have been wrong."

"What else have you been lying to me about?" she stepped back to give him a suspicious stare from the top of his head to his bare toes before returning to his face. He managed to meet her gaze for at _least_ five seconds before he casually turned and headed towards the new racing game he'd had brought up the month before. Hours of game play had proved time and again that her reactive instincts were good, better than most of his friends, and he was discovering that her belittling insults made for fantastic trash talk when she wasn't trying to actually hurt his feelings.

He slid into the plastic seat of his racing game, lounging back to wait for her to slid into the other so they could start another friendly competition that would have her questioning his driving skills, his gaming skills, and his general skills on all things. Instead, however, when she sat on the other side of the thin partial barrier that separated their screens he crossed an ankle over his knee and looked at her, "I believe I would recall if you had ever told me you could play video games." It wasn't an accusation, for all he knew she _had_ and he was proving once again that he hadn't paid attention to her at all when he was fifteen.

Margo's fingers lightly tapped against the plastic wheel before her, "I didn't really say much of anything though, did I?" instead of meeting his eyes she turned her hand and studied her nails. "Besides, we spoke for all of... What? Maybe two hours in three days, the majority of which was on the phone?" flipping her hand out airily, a slight shrug implying that nothing about the subject mattered. "It isn't like we would have had much in common to talk about even if I had managed to unscramble my thoughts and untie my tongue. When we met I didn't have an immunity to boys, but I'm sure you already realized that."

When she gave her attention to selecting one of the random racers the game had drawn for the day Antonio tried to process her meaning when it finally slammed into him. Margo Gru's first boyfriend had been _him_, it actually made perfect sense without even having to think much about it. From her overly love-struck aura to her inability of knowing when a boy's attention was serious or not and the fact that he had definitely showed nothing but a casual interest easily proved that... A casual interest that had easily turned to a pretty dark haired girl that knew how to shake her hips in a way that had captured his attention and ran with it for nearly a week before he moved on to another.

"You seem to have built one up since then." forcing his attention to his half of the game and picking the first choice his eyes landed on, he pretended that his words were only for the sake of conversation. When she didn't answer he had to remind himself that their easy and carefree morning was a first for both and that just that last evening he'd been nothing short of crass and rude. "May I ask how that came about?"

The sensation of her eyes on him made him want to look at her, but his body didn't seem to want to respond to his brains command. It wasn't until the game started that he gave up on getting an answer, and as they sped their races around the oncoming tracks he tried not to think of it. In the end his car kept going off track into ponds, lava, mountains, and any other hazard he was supposed to avoid, allowing Margo's first win of the day that she celebrated by continuing to stare at the monitor in silence. "I didn't."

Too distracted that she hadn't answered his question, he gave her a sidelong glance, "As much as we have played to day, I think you were do _one_ win eventually." She blinked at him and he arched a brow before realizing it wasn't so much disbelief that the two words expressed as the answer he'd been waiting for. "Wait," trying to understand the meaning, he dragged his feet off the plastic toy peddles and frowned deeply, "you're saying you haven't dated since then?"

"Of course I've dated since then." she rolled her eyes at him and he felt himself immediately relax; of course she would have dated plenty of men since then. She was exceptionally pretty, fun when she chose to be, and smart; three premium qualities that was a rare combination to find in anyone. When she stood up from the game and stretched her muscles free of any kinks that might have formed, she walked over to the middle of the room and relaxed in the first of three rows of his theater seating chairs. Her eyes took in the home theater screen before looking back at him, "I just haven't dated as much as you. I'm not sure anyone has, actually, how much _have_ you dated?"

"Dated?" the inquiry gave him a moment's pause, not having expected her to ask him such a thing in return. Antonio would be the first to admit that he was not a man that went on _dates_ so much as he _hooked up_ with whatever girl managed to capture his interest; and he hadn't had a girlfriend since... Actually, since Margo herself.

"Uh, yeah? Those things where you schedule a certain time to meet up with your girlfriend to go out somewhere and have fun?" she arched her brow in sardonic amusement and laughed, "I'm not asking for an exact number, Antonio. You can round it down if you need to."

He would not 'round it down' as that would make zero and he was certainly not going to inform her that the only one to hold the title of being his girlfriend was herself. It was a fact that he'd only just realized, a fact that he found slightly embarrassing, and a fact that she knew perfectly well that his being single did not go hand-in-hand with being alone. With no other option aside from a lie to go with, he decided to hedge around the truth and hope that she didn't pry, "Do I look like a man that goes on many 'dates'?"

Thankfully, his answer had made her laugh and the topic ended without shattering the small amount of respect he hadn't already destroyed.

It was nine in the evening when Antonio and Margo were making their way to his bedroom when his lounge door was abruptly thrust open to reveal several enthusiastic faces of his friends as they flooded in before he remembered to send out e-mails canceling his weekly 'Hump-Day Party' until further notice. The brunette beside him, obviously not thrilled to see the faces of a mess of people that had tried nearly everything in their power to humiliate her, groaned loudly even as the music began blaring over the surround sound. "How many times a week do you _live_ like this?!" her voice shouted at him and he privately hoped it was so he could hear over the sudden noise.

Yet another question that she asked and he didn't want to answer, "Several times, I'm afraid." and for once he wasn't proud of it. In fact, the only thing he wanted to do was plow through them and get to his room so he could go to bed; the only thing that held him back was that his father had flatly refused to add sound proofed walls... Something about them being too dangerous or something. He didn't remember and he didn't care, the only thing he cared about was the fact that getting over fifty people out of his lounge after they'd just settled in for a long night of fun would be next to impossible.

A fact that Margo also seemed to understand, although her displeasure at being forced in his friend's presence was clearly shown on her face. "I'm going to si-"

"Antonio!"

A tall, powerfully built blonde strode up and quickly threw his arm around Antonio's neck with the same easy grace of any other night, "You're looking..."

Antonio pushed Anthony's arm off him and tried not to look down at his bare feet, his shoes were only just inside his closet and it wouldn't take him maybe two minutes to get a pair of socks and return. It wasn't until Anthony's blue eyes caught sight of Margo's similar attire that he felt the first stirrings of actual frustration. It wasn't so much as the knowing smile on his face that truthfully had no place being directed at either Margo or himself, and it wasn't how he laughed when her face turned a wonderful crimson that only made him laugh harder. It was the fact that his vanilla white fingers reached out and playfully tugged the length of silky brown hair before leaning slightly in to whisper in her ear.

Jerking her away from the only man in the room that could even hope to compete with him on a scale of assholes to utter pricks, he crossed his arms and tilted his head mockingly. "What did I tell you about touching what doesn't belong to you?"

"That you don't care as long as you're done with it." Anthony laughed and Antonio felt Margo stiffen behind his back. He wanted to tell her that the man was only joking, but Anthony was never one to willingly go along with a lie unless he knew he could get something out of it in return. "Relax, bro; I'm not trying to rush you. It's just that I've been waiting since Mad Monday and to be honest, I'm a little surprised you're taking this long."

"I wouldn't want you if you came wrapped in hundred dollar bills and a bow made of diamond encrusted gold." Margo sneered loudly and Antonio almost groaned when Anthony's eyes widened with interest. It was not a good sign. It had never been a good sign. The last time he had seen it, Anthony had all but disappeared in a pursuit that, at the time, Antonio had laughed about with everyone else.

"Now, see?" the blonde tried to slide around him and he had to quickly move to prevent it from happening, an act that Anthony didn't bother to even acknowledge, "That is how a woman is _supposed_ to act! Now I know why you've still got her around." He tried the move again and Antonio matched him step for step. "Just give me a _minute_, Tony!" he snapped his fingers and gestured over his shoulder for someone to join them, "You know what, I met a wonderful lady this evening that you have _got_ to see."

Antonio didn't need red flags to know he was about to be barraged by whatever attractive girl his friend had found waiting in line at some club or another. Instead of sticking around, he turned and grabbed Margo's elbow, pushing her away before the woman could get to them. Margo seemed to understand what he was doing and willingly followed him as he pushed through a crowd that hardly fit into the room. He could hear Anthony's voice behind them and gritted his teeth, "I don't think we'll be able to lose him." Margo complained and he looked over his shoulder to see that she was right.

His captive had managed to captivate a billionaire babe bloodhound that had caught her scent and was refusing to give up the chase. When they got to the bar he pulled the nearest person off a stool and pushed Margo onto it; giving in for the inevitable and bracing himself to fending off whatever advancements Anthony would try to make on the visibly upset girl he, brushed someone else aside to sit next to. There was only a few seconds that he had at his disposal before the blonde man managed to catch up to explain what she should expect to happen, which was all he really needed, "Anthony and I are _best friends_, remember that, Margo."

Then the blonde and his redheaded date were upon them, ordering drinks to a man that had taken up the bartender position for the evening. It didn't seem to matter to him that he had to stand and Antonio quietly thanked whatever greater power had granted him the gift of the man not seeing how he'd acquired his and Margo's seats... and for her amazing ability of shooting down Anthony's every flirtatious gesture with the same seething angry remarks Antonio had received before she'd decided to get along with him instead.

Unfortunately, it caused the man's interest in her to grow to levels Antonio hadn't seen before and certainly hadn't anticipated. "I'm serious; imagine having an entire island to do whatever you want on! The beach is absolutely amazing, isn't it, Tony?"

"It's a beach." Antonio shrugged, ignoring the narrowed blue eyes of accusation as he leaned against the counter and pretended like he didn't notice.

"It's an island paradise, complete with romantic waterfalls." Anthony corrected, his eyes moving back to the coolly unimpressed brown stare.

"Do I _look_ like someone that wants to go somewhere with you that I can't escape from?" Margo snapped, her irritability reaching new heights he was pleased to say he hadn't managed to touch. Anthony gave a rich laugh that instantly ground on Antonio's patience and made him look up to the clock hanging above the tall bar shelving where expensive brands of liquor were kept on display. Only an hour had passed and he wondered if he couldn't just take Margo to one of the spare guest suites the mansion had.

On a different level that required coded access to get to.

"Let go of me!"

"Come on, just one dance. I'll even take my shoes off if you're afraid I'll step on your feet." Anthony's voice persuaded and Antonio quickly looked to see that Margo was being pulled onto the dance floor without him even noticing. "I might not be as smooth on the floor as a certain Mexican, but I'm not half bad either."

Leaping off his stool and catching Margo's arm before she could be dragged any farther, he pulled her against him and glared at his friend from above her head. "Are you trying to start a fright, my friend?"

Anthony didn't even bother to look anything but annoyed by the question, "Well, since I think I actually like my little bird," he released Margo's wrist and began taking off the dark gray sports jacket to heedlessly throw into the widening space around them. "then if I've got to fight my best friend to get her, I'll fight my best friend."

Margo looked every bit the deer caught in headlights, her stunned eyes jerking towards Antonio wordlessly before giving a subtle shake of her head. Antonio ignored it and jerked her behind him before removing his checkered shirt and dropping it to the floor, "Then why wait for an invitation?" his fist lashed out, elbow tucked in tightly as his father had trained, missing only because Margo had grabbed the back of his shirt to pull him back before his hit could land. "Margo, _let go_." he reached back to try and pry her hands from him, but she continued pulling him.

Anthony advanced in the same slow manner that Antonio had seen when he fought other men in the past, and he quickly threw his arm back while dodging to the side before the kick he knew was coming managed to connect. Using the closer distance to his advantage, Antonio responded with a wide heel kick that clipped the blonde's knee before Margo could pull him back again. "This is _not_ helping me, Margo-"

"We just need to get to your room and lock the door." she cut him off, continuing to tug, pull, and drag him the best that she could as he stubbornly held his ground the best _he_ could without her getting accidentally harmed.

A task made more difficult as the crowd seemed to understand what she was trying to do and shifted around to try and help as much as they could. The moving people distracted him, his eyes going first from Anthony's stalking steps to the others in the same way that his father had trained him to do in spite of the fact that no one other than Anthony wanted to fight. The years of daily training had turned into an automatic function he couldn't stop, so when the force of Anthony's kick landed against his side he took the full brunt instead of falling to a roll. "Just let go, I've got this!"

"He's got a civi-girl hanging on him, Anthony!" a voice shouted out from somewhere off to his left, and before he could stop himself he was already looking for the source. "Let him get her off him!"

As if the woman's voice was a direct order from their families, people seemed to rush forward to try and pull Margo off of his shirt, crushing him, her, and Anthony together tightly before he felt a final tug that released his shirt and sent a shock wave of panic through his body. "Margo!"

"I've got her, it's fine!" a man shouted back and he turned to see large frightened brown eyes staring widely at him, her hands clawing against the meaty hand that tightly pressed over her mouth.

Anthony began walking towards him again, and he quickly tried to push the distraction aside to focus on the serious man trying to take Margo. Meat Hands was Iron Maiden's son, a tall fat fellow with more brains than muscle who's name was Eric or Aaron or whatever. It didn't matter because Eric/Aaron wasn't about to get on his mother's bad side by putting _her_ on his father's; so when Anthony suddenly sprinted forward into an attack, Antonio braced himself to take it.

Perez men were hand-to-hand fighters and wrestlers, having him in close range without having to chase him down was practically giving him the fight. Even as the air was forced out of his lungs by the broad shoulder that slammed into his gut Antonio bent into it willingly, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's back to clasp over his stomach.

Anthony tried to block his oncoming knee from crashing into his chest, he would give him that much, however adrenalin and fury broke through the block when strength alone failed. It only took two to make him fall, and Antonio didn't waste a second before heaving his friend up while twisting his body around to slam him into the floor. "This time, no exceptions." he stood back, observing the groaning man trying to push himself off the floor before turning to retrieve Margo from Eric/Aaron.

After the fight, the tight crush of people somehow managed to get thicker, each person trying to personally congratulate him on winning until he was able to find Margo beside _Adrian_ crouching behind the bar. Whatever he'd told her had obviously calmed her enough that she had lost the terrified look in her eyes, though when she seen him he wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't any happier, either. In fact, when she spotted him coming studying her she resolutely crossed her arms and stared at the cabinet across from her.

"She said that she's tired and wants to go to bed." Adrian sounded apologetic, flinching a bit to show he was an unwilling participant in whatever Margo's newest punishment was.

Tired himself, he crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the counter, considering his options before confronting either Margo or Adrian why _she_ wasn't the one to tell him such. The chances of removing any of the now rambunctiously loud people still shouting their congratulations over to him had gone down the drain the minute he'd decided to fight anyone, let alone Anthony Carthwright. Their father's were already rivals to begin with, something that everyone knew since the time they could understand their own native language. The chances of getting privacy to try and temper Margo's fury was about as good as having her suddenly change her mind and boogieing onstage with the musicians that had taken it over in front of the large group of strangers around them.

"Then it's time to go to bed." reaching down to pull her up, he nodded his thanks to Adrian again and escorted her to the corridor door, a task made easier as she seemed more than willing to follow him out. It took twenty-five minutes to find a guestroom two floors down where he could be sure no one from the ongoing party above would follow before he finally felt like he could relax.

Margo had continued her silent treatment the entire time, not that he hadn't made it easier since he hadn't said anything either, but the quiet inside the single room was enough to drive him crazy after the fiasco that went on upstairs. "Anthony Carthwright is not someone who can be ignored through a door, Margo. Your idea would not have worked." she continued to glare at him as if _he_ had been the one to start the fight, which he had _not_ done, "Don't be unreasonable, he knew what he was starting when he touched you-"

"Why would you fight him over _that_?"

The fact that she said anything at all surprised him enough to shrug his shoulders and say the first thing that came to mind, "Nobody touches what is mine."

The resulting silence from his statement filled the room once again, however even he had a difficult time trying to understand what he meant, but that didn't make it anything less than the truth. Margo was his, so nobody could touch her aside from him without his permission and there was no other way to look at it. A quick glance showed that the girl herself didn't seem to know how to respond to his simple answer, not that she would be able to help him understand his own mind... Not that it mattered either way.

* * *

Authors Note: Aaahhh, I seriously wanted to stay away from the typical 'jealous fight scene', but it's a good way to push a story's progress; meanwhile I keep looking at chapter four and wondering if I shouldn't go another way with it, which sets me back six chapters. Then I start wondering if I shouldn't write a companion story from Margo's point of view, which obviously creates even more work for me, which is tragic since I'm seriously contemplating a re-write before it's too late. Blah!


End file.
